No Promises
by nightchildx
Summary: A detailed record of the disturbing events experienced by the Ramsey's young housekeeper Eloise Cross.  Jonah/OC romance, but not super-gushy. It's gonna get gruesome. Full summary inside! R&R and enjoy! Ch 9 up!
1. Not Quite A Southern Belle

**This is my first Haunting in Connecticut fic! I'm hoping to do really well on this one, and I hope you're prepared for horror and death, love and heartbreak! I don't promise a happy ending since I'm a bit of a sadist when it comes to writing, but I really hope you enjoy the ride! Please review, even if it's a short "update soon!" I'd really appreciate it!**

Summary: It's a plain life for Eloise in 1920 Connecticut. Plain job, plain home, plain looks, the whole boring shebang. Or so it appears. Dead family members, dying family members, a dangerous boss, and a boy's love she never even considered before rear their heads and turn Eloise's safe little life into a picture of tragedy… and insanity.

_Connecticut, 1920_

To be completely honest, Eloise Cross really enjoyed her job. Though to some it seemed quite menial, it was something she did well and without complaint.

She even liked her employer, to a point, and his other employee who doubled as his assistant. They were a quiet pair who were as equally quiet about their work and had only one rule for her: stay out of the morgue.

Yes, Eloise worked for Mr. Aikman as his housekeeper; cooking, cleaning and the like for only a month so far.

Just as Eloise had never badgered the two about their work, they in turn never inquired about her personal life, just as she would have kept it. Six days a week from eight in the morning to eight at night she worked then left for home. Monotonous and unwavering this pace was, and it seemed it would always be so. Though they failed to see it, change was immanent.

Eloise sucked in her breath as the cutting knife inflicted a slight wound on her thumb. She brought it to her lips to nurture it, examined it for a moment, and then continued to chop vegetables in silence.

Mr. Aikman and Jonah were downstairs in the mortuary as usual, working with the cadavers and only coming up for meals and meeting the occasional visitors in the arrangement room. Today would be no different.

Once the remaining vegetables were sliced, she dropped them in a tall pot of boiling broth and topped it with the lid and cleaned up her mess.

She had just finished wiping down the counter with a cloth rag when the distinct sound of heavy footfall approached behind her. She turned with a small smile.

"Hello Mr. Aikman." She said amicably in her light southern drawl. "Somethin' I can do for you?"

Ramsey Aikman was an intimidating man, tall and skinny with a high forehead and sharp cheekbones, and there he stood, looming in the doorframe.

"Just wondering when dinner will be ready." He replied.

"About ten minutes, I'd say. I just finished cleaning up."

He nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Eloise. Will you be eating with us tonight?"

"Not tonight, I'm afraid. My daddy wants me home." She shook her head. "Should I go get Jonah before I leave?"

"He's on his way up. That'll be all for today, Eloise." Aikman stepped further into the kitchen to allow room for her to pass.

"Yes sir. I'll see you tomorrow morning then." She smiled politely and walked out into the hall to get her coat.

She pulled the oversized gray coat over her shoulders just as Jonah emerged from the lower room. He paused a moment to look at her, gave a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement and disappeared into the kitchen.

Eloise blew a piece of straw-yellow hair from her face and finished buttoning up, bracing herself for the cold air that would bite her skin as soon as she opened the door.

The harsh chill hardly changed once Eloise was indoors again. The crumbling apartment was missing huge patches of drywall, revealing the skeletal structure. There were shapeless oil marks on the cracked and otherwise bare walls. Bottles and rumpled clothes littered the concrete floor, making a trail that lead to a worn and weathered mattress that her father had bartered for from a junk man several years back.

Atop that beaten mattress lay a man of nearly fifty years, though his solid gray hair and long, burdened face revealed his true age. The heavy lines on his bearded face gave away the life of a man who had been defeated in everything in life and knew that it would never change.

He was asleep now, settled under a heavy wool blanket tucked under his chin. His thin mouth was twitching from under his salt and pepper beard as he dreamt in uneasy peace.

Eloise looked down on her father with a mixture of affection and pity. Here was a man who worked harder than anyone and had nothing to show for it. Poverty was all he ever knew and it was all he had to give to his beloved children. Eloise loved him anyhow.

Henry Cross stirred from his slumber, his eyes opening to find his oldest daughter peering down at him with a strange look on her face. He coughed, shaking the sleep from his voice.

"Lou?" he slurred. "Lou, honey, what're you doin' hoverin' over me like a ghost? Swear you almost gave me a heart attack."

Eloise smiled at his heavy southern drawl. "Sorry, Daddy. Just lookin' at you is all. You must be hungry."

He sat up with a groan, rubbing his matted gray hair with his weathered hands. "After a ten-hour shift, you 'kin bet I'm hungry."

She bent to hand him a basket of hot, towel-wrapped baked potatoes, a single ear of corn, and a half loaf of two day-old bread. He accepted the basket with enthusiasm and immediately began to munch on a small brown potato.

Eloise straightened and turned to leave the room when Henry called out to her. "Don't you want some?" he asked with a mouth full of potato.

She shook her head, her straw yellow hair falling in front of her eyes. "No sir. But try to save that loaf for your breakfast tomorrow, alright?

Henry swallowed and nodded. "G'night, Lou darlin'."

"Night, Daddy."

There were only two rooms in the Cross's apartment, not including the bathroom which did not work, and a coat closet that only stored a small trunk, containing her grandfather's Confederate Army uniform. This second room belonged to Eloise. It was small and cramped, but it was relatively cleaner and neater, and somewhat decorated.

The windows were draped with thin, faded blue curtains that the moths had helped themselves to. The mattress wasn't nearly as ratty or as old as her father's, and it was neatly made up with a thin white sheet, a heavy wool blanket, and a folded red quilt at the end. There was no pillow. A single, bare light bulb was all that lit the room, and it hung drearily in the middle of the ceiling.

A little trunk of clothes lay beside the mattress as a makeshift side table. Atop it lay a cheap picture frame with a sepia photo of Eloise's mother, as well as a well-loved ragdoll. It was missing both its button eyes and a smudge of dirt stained the dress.

Eloise sighed and trudged over to her bed. She shrugged off her grey coat, unlaced her clunky, out-of-date shoes and tossed them both aside. Yawning, she picked up the doll and fell back into bed, clutching the toy to her chest.

When sleep finally came to her, she dreamt of working. She was in the Aikman house, scrubbing the floors when Jonah walked by. She called out to greet him, but it appeared that he could not hear her. He turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Eloise followed; a low humming noise came from the walls as she walked. When she too turned the corner, Jonah had gone, and in his place stood a young girl with hair the color of lemons. Eloise smiled down at her little sister in glee, reaching out to stroke her face.

Her eyes opened and she was in her apartment again.

By the time she was able to pull herself out of bed and slip into a knee-length, blue wool dress, her father had already left for work.

Eloise sighed and began to get ready for the day. After combing her hair out with her fingers and brushing her teeth, she left her shoddy apartment. She walked briskly down the frozen road, her clunky, black, shoes leaving clear prints in the fresh snow as she went thinking about her dream.

Yes, she decided, she would go visit her sister tomorrow. She smiled, thinking about how surprised she'd be when she showed up with her old ragdoll. They'd probably play a game or two with the other children since it was too cold to go to the park. She might even eat lunch with them and tell them stories. They usually liked her stories.

At last she reached the Aikman house, just as the snowfall came down in heavy gusts. Instead of knocking, she waltzed right in like she owned the place. The Aikmans wouldn't care; in fact, they expected her to. They didn't want to bother answering the door when they were so busy down in the morgue.

After hanging her coat up on the rack, Eloise made a beeline for the kitchen and found the breakfast dishes were already washed and put away. She frowned, knowing she wouldn't get paid for this, but shrugged it off and set off to do the next task: laundry.

She started into the next room but stopped short, lingering in the doorframe. Sitting cross legged on the floor was Jonah, engulfed in a pile of clean laundry.

He didn't seem to be aware of her presence considering his back was to her when she padded into the room. She watched him carefully fold a pair of pants for a moment, an amused smile tugging at her lips.

"You know that's my job, right?" she said finally.

He jumped, head whipping around to face her. "When did you get here?"

She shrugged. "About five minutes ago… Did you do the dishes too?"

Jonah nodded. "Mr. Aikman left early this morning for some business errands. I'm not supposed to work alone, and I didn't have anything else to do so…" he shrugged apologetically.

Eloise cocked her head. What was the harm? It was his house anyway. She sat opposite him and examined the stack of already folded clothes. "Not bad. Except this one needs to be redone." She said, picking up a shirt and began refolding it herself.

She didn't stop there. On she went through the pile of clothing, working at a steady pace while the wind outside picked up and the light snowfall turned into a storm. She could feel Jonah's electric blue eyes occasionally glance in her direction, which would quickly flick back down to whatever he was working on every time she looked up.

An hour had passed when they were done, and Eloise decided she needed to move on to dusting. Jonah offered to help, and she gave him a rag to work with.

"We'll split up." She dictated. "I take upstairs, you take down. Or would you rather take upstairs?"

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I'll take downstairs."

It was settled. Dusting went by a little longer than folding had, and soon they met at the bottom of the stairs, ready for the next task to come.

"Are you hungry?" Eloise asked mid-sweep.

"Are you?" he said uncertainly.

Eloise looked at him knowingly. "I'll take that as a yes."

She put the broom aside and trailed into the kitchen. By the time Jonah made it there as well she had already whipped out the stew she had prepared the night before.

When he reached over her to retrieve a bowl, Eloise glanced upward and couldn't help but feel very small in comparison.

He caught her staring. "What?"

"Err, nothing. I was just realizing how short I am." She said, unable to suppress a smile. "I was in denial about it before until I looked up and there you were."

He smiled embarrassedly and ducked his head. "Oh."

She chuckled, turned to the table and shrieked. Her hand flew to her mouth to stop the noise.

Jonah whirled around. "What is it?"

Eloise lowered her hand slowly, mouth agape and trembling ever so slightly. "I-I thought I saw someone standing right there." She pointed to the empty doorframe. "It looked just like my…"

Jonah watched her fearful eyes flicker with emotions he could not identify. He set his bowl down gently and walked to her side. His hand hovered hesitantly above her shoulder, in an attempt to console the girl, but instead it fell limply to his side. "Are you sure you saw someone?"

Eloise glanced down at her feet. "I guess it was my imagination then. Trick of the light." She looked up at Jonah and smiled awkwardly. "I'm sorry."

Ramsey Aikman came home not twenty minutes later and immediately set Jonah to work again. Eventually Eloise went home after she was sure everything in the house was immaculately neat and tidy and the storm outside was definitely over. She crunched home through the snow with a chill set in her bones that was not entirely brought on by the frigid climate.

She simply could not rid her mind of the apparatus that she may or may not have seen. The heart palpitating fear that struck her when she saw him standing there, clothed in dingy-white rags and the marred skin of her dead brother's face.

**Okay, well not a whole lot of action going on, but you have to build up to these things, you know? I hope to get in the next update soon if all goes well on the exams next week! Wish me luck!**


	2. Everybody Hates the Landlady

**Well, I got this up a bit later than I had intended. Pretty good turnout for a first chapter. Thanks so much for your reviews! Ya'll are beautiful! Anyway, I hope you enjoy the next chapter. Please review!**

**XxXxXxX**

Eloise had a scarf and a pair of thin gloves on that morning, as it was particularly cold that day. In one pocket of her usual oversized coat was the word ragdoll from home; the other held a small handful of candies.

She was careful to walk on the ice-frosted steps of St. Bernadette's Home for Girls, lest she fall and break open her skull. A quick knock on the heavy wooden door and she was let inside by a young girl, twelve years old possibly, and was politely asked to wait for Sister Mary Grace.

Eloise shuffled her feet and fiddled with her scarf, observing the foyer. It was modest, but well cared for; few decorations were without a depiction of Christ and the saints, which was expected of an orphanage run by nuns.

Three young girls ran past her, screeching with laughter into the other room. The clock ticked away, and Eloise's foot tapped along with the beat.

"Ever the patient one I see." An elderly woman's voice called. "You are here for Emily I assume?"

Eloise turned and smiled at the matron. "Yes sister. I thought she could use a visit."

The nun gave her an odd smile. "Well then, she is probably in her room with the other girls."

She beckoned for Elise to follow, and she was led upstairs and down the hall. "Though you are not responsible for Emily's behavior or discipline, I would appreciate it if you would encourage her to refrain from fighting."

Eloise's eyes widened in alarm. "She's been _fightin'_?"

Sr. Mary Grace nodded serenely. "Yes. Just the other day she and another girl were involved in a minor altercation, and I'm afraid a few "Hail Mary's" will not prevent another fight."

Eloise set her jaw firmly on edge. "Oh, I'll set her straight all right." She said, her accent more pronounced.

Sister Mary Grace continued to speak, but all Eloise could think about was kicking Em's behind to Hell and back when she got her hands on her. Finally they arrived at the end of the hall and Eloise was ushered through a door.

On the other side was a large room, fitting a dozen beds, six lining up on each wall. Only five girls were present, three of which were sitting in a semi-circle on the floor, one was perched on a window sill, and the last was huddled on her bed with her knees drawn up to her chest.

All heads turned, and a chorus of "Eloise!" was sung in high, clear voices. However, the girl on the bed was the only one to rise and meet her.

"Eloise!" The girl wrapped her arms around her waist. "You came!"

"Well sure I did! You didn't think I'd forgotten, did you?" Eloise grinned partly because she was so excited to see her baby sister, and partly because she was secretly planning to knock her into next week.

The girl Emily looked up at her with doe eyes. "Can I come home this time? Can Daddy take care of me now?"

Emily's smile twitched, and the excitement in her eyes died when she noticed her sister's hesitation. "Oh, never mind. I'm just glad you came."

Eloise mussed Em's white-blond hair and said nothing. Sister Mary Grace silently backed out of the room and left the girls to themselves.

She knelt to eye level and smiled dangerously. "I'm gonna cut right to the chase. You been fightin' girl?"

The room became eerily silent as every girl's voice hushed to listen. Emily stared at her sister with wide, deer-in-the-headlights eyes. The corner of her mouth twitched, obviously trying to plan her escape.

Then she opened her mouth and let out a shrill scream. Eloise made a grab for her, but she was too fast and darted away, jumping over the beds like hurdles. Emily crashed through the circle of girls, who shrieked and scattered to corners of the room. Eloise finally snagged her sister by the collar and pinned her down to the ground.

Em wriggled like a snake from under her but to no avail. Eloise growled. "Chile, you gonna git my _foot_ up yer rear if I ever catch you fightin again!"

She was answered with a grunt of frustration and reluctant agreement. Eloise frowned. "Mmhmm. Sure." She released her grip and pulled herself up.

The girls giggled nervously and came out of hiding. One girl, Mae, a particularly tiny little thing, approached Eloise and gently tugged on her coat. "Yes?"

"What's in your pocket?" she chirped, sticking her thumb in her mouth like a pacifier. "Is it presents?"

Eloise's pissy demeanor vanished and she smiled sweetly. "Sure is, doll-face." She dug into her pocket and presented the girls with the colorful confections she had purchased just for them.

Every girl squealed in excitement and snatched a piece from her palm without a thank-you to be said. Eloise ignored it graciously and turned her attention to her sister, who looked particularly sour.

Eloise smirked. "Lighten up, Buttercup. I didn't forget you." She held out the ragdoll, which the younger girl took with near disbelief.

"You're _giving_ me this?" she said in awe. "But this is _yours_. You never even let me play with it when we still lived with Daddy and Momma and Michael."

Eloise flinched inwardly at the last name mentioned, reflecting on the previous night's event at Goatswood. "Well, I never use it anymore, and it's just so sad t'see a toy go unloved."

The rest of the day went by in a blur and ended better than it began. Goodbyes were quick and relatively painless, hugs were had and promises of return were made. Eloise crunched back home through the snow.

She came home to an empty apartment. Feeling eerily like she wasn't truly alone, she shed her coat and gloves and got ready for bed. She had just pulled the covers back when she heard the front door creak open and heavy footfall approach.

"Daddy?" she called. The footsteps stopped, and there was no answer. Eloise froze in panic, paranoia creeping up her neck. "Hello?"

"Lou."

Eloise let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in. "I'm in here."

Henry Cross poked his gray head into her room, looking more worn out than ever. "Where were you today?"

"I went to St. Bernadette's. Then I came home."

He swallowed. "You know yer good girls. You 'n yer sister I mean. An' I'm sorry I'm sucha bum I can't take care o' you both like a good father. I'm sorry yer Momma left us and yer brother died. I'm sorry I can't do anything else but be sorry."

Eloise felt her lower lip tremble. "Daddy, no-"

But he held up his hand to stop her. "I know that no matter what you do, you'll be all right. Yer such a brave girl. An' Em 'll be adopted by someone who can actually feed, shelter, and clothe her." He paused, letting his words hang heavily in the air. "You just go t'sleep now. You don't worry about a thing."

Eloise stared after him, wishing she knew what to say, but nothing sounded right. She lay back down on her bed, confused and frustrated. She knew it was hard on him when Michael died two years ago during the flu pandemic at the age of 17. It was even harder when Momma abandoned them only a month later, unable to deal with her grief. It was soon after that Daddy couldn't support her and Emily and sent the latter to St. Bernadette's where she could be taken care of.

Then she got a job at Goatswood, in some hope that she could make enough money to bring Emily home for good.

But every cent she earned seemed to disappear, and the likelihood of Emily's return dropped from slim to none.

_Yeah, and Slim's just left town._ She thought bitterly.

Eventually she fell asleep, though fitful and dreamless. When she awoke early that morning, her father had already left for work, like usual.

At Aikman's she hardly saw Jonah, but didn't think much of it. Yesterday was just a minor change of pace, and she silently berated herself for wanting be around him. What a silly wish.

XxXxXxX

She climbed the apartment steps, so desperate to escape the miserable cold she almost didn't notice her old trunk sitting right outside her door. She stopped and stared for a moment, unable to decipher what it could possibly mean.

"You still here?" came a startlingly gravelly voice from behind.

Eloise twitched at the noise and mustered a polite smile at her landlady. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

The woman raised an untrimmed eyebrow. "Your old man hasn't paid rent in two months. He's already got his crap out."

Eloise's jaw dropped in horror. "He never told me… W-where is he?"

"Don't know, don't care. Thought you'd have known anyway. He didn't say nothin' to me when I came to kick him out for good." She turned her head to cover her raspy cough. "Now get your shit and scram. Can't have bums hanging around, scaring away _paying_ tenants."

Eloise glowered at the woman for her seething comment, but she bit her tongue and picked up the heavy trunk. It was far too cumbersome and heavy to carry downstairs by herself, and she stumbled twice trying to turn corners.

She half expected her father to be waiting for her outside with some plan to find temporary shelter, but the other half, her cynical side, believed that she being left on her own to fend for herself.

She had walked only three blocks from her point of origin when her patience had reached its limit and she threw down the trunk in frustration.

"Little trouble there, Doll?"

She felt heat flush her cheeks. In her anger, she failed to notice the young man standing a few feet from where she cast her heavy load to the side. He was young, but still a few years older than she.

And he was coming closer. Eloise drew in a deep breath and tilted her chin up in defiance, hoping that if she looked brave, he might leave her be. Fat chance.

The boy who spoke flashed her a wide grin that might have been charming if he weren't missing a front tooth. He was dressed relatively lightly for such cold weather, but he didn't look the least bit cold. "That trunk is awful heavy for such a pretty little dame. How's about I carry that for ya?" He took another step toward her. "No objections then?"

He bent to pick up her luggage.

"Get away!" she blurted out, unable to hold it back. "I mean it!"

He chuckled. "Fiery little bearcat, ain't cha? That's too bad. I was hopin' you wouldn't put up a fight."

A small _click_ and a glint of metal. _Knife_, she thought, and took a wary step back.

He moved quickly, almost upon her with alarming speed. Seeing it coming, she brought her knee up hard into his groin and turned to make a break for it.

The boy grunted and grabbed her arm with a bruising grip. She shrieked as he twisted her flesh and flung her to the ground. He cursed and fell on her, knife raised and ready to plunge into her heart.

Eloise wasn't sure how it happened, or how she was able to pry the knife from him. She'd later attribute it to pure luck.

It was softer than she imagined, like stabbing a pillow. She would remember how easily it cut through his flesh and muscle. The blade was buried up to the hilt, through his clothes and into his lung.

His glassy eyes were stretched wide as if in surprise. They bore into her and he opened his mouth to speak. Black-red ooze dribbled out instead, running down his chin and onto her chest. He gurgled, spitting blood on her cheeks and she winced.

His weight was suffocating her and with a grunt, she was able to roll his off her smaller frame.

She coked back a sob, and crawled to her trunk, holding on to the thing for dear life. She fumbled with the latch and popped the lid, pulling out a large cloth bag and stuffing it with the contents of the trunk, save for the bulkier things that were not quite necessities.

She rose and brushed the snow from her dress. She looked at the young man's body. He had stopped gurgling, though the blood still pooled from his wound, a dark blotch in the clean snow.

Nobody was coming. It was dark, it was cold, and it was silent. And then she knew for sure.

She had been abandoned.


	3. The Saddest Word

**Thanks to all my reviewers! You inspire me to write more and often! You rock! I hope you enjoy this next chapter and continue reviewing! Sorry for being so late on this, I got caught up in a few things.**

_Regret. The Saddest Word in the English Language._

_There are consequences to every action: it is_

_just not always so obvious at the time. You_

_never really know how things are going to_

_work out or how you're going to feel until_

_afterward. Thus, regret. You may not be _

_able to change anything, but at least you can_

_feel bad about it. Never mind that it might_

_haunt you for the rest of your life or, in_

_[Eloise's] case, beyond._

~Excerpt from _Ghost Girl_ by Tonya Hurley (changes made by nightchildx)

_Two days later._

It was around mid-day when they carted him on a gurney through the hall and past her kitchen. His body was covered in a thin sheet from head to toe, but she was sure it was _him_. She stood in paralyzing silence, watching from inside the doorframe.

Jonah spared her a furtive glance as he and his father pushed the cadaver past her, but she didn't seem to notice him.

Her face was drawn and pale, fearful, even. There were elements to her reaction that he couldn't identify, and she kept him wondering. But she had _seen_ previous bodies and had never looked so sickened before. _What could be so different about this one?_ Jonah mused.

A police constable and the coroner were there now, both looking decidedly unperturbed. The policeman, Officer Sheely was a tall, lean man with sharp eyes and an apathetic demeanor. The coroner was a bit stockier but just as tall with a thick mustache under his piggy nose and steely gray eyes. They followed the cart like a parade (or a funeral march, in Jonah's opinion.)

Eloise's face was growing a sickly green when the policeman shuffled past. She backed into the kitchen wordlessly, although the frightful expression on her face was still clearly visible.

Hot, primal terror flashed through her stomach and her breath became shallow and uneven. It had been only two days since she had killed that boy, knowing that they must have found the body by now. It had to be him under that sheet.

She worked in trepidation and paranoia, feeling less and less sure of herself and the minutes ticked by. It was agonizing and brutal torture. Countless times she tried to convince herself to run for it while she still could, and each time she chickened out.

Two and a half hours later they emerged from the morgue, no words were spoken, only heavy footsteps echoed through the hall. Eloise hid behind a corner near the front door, listening for any clue that would confirm the man's identity. There were none. The only audible string of words was from the policeman, who was only stepping out to find the man's family to identify the body.

Eloise peeked around her corner to better view the men, who were brusquely bidding each other farewell.

"Good day gentlemen." The officer said, half way out the door. And then it happened. For the shortest of moments, the officer looked up and saw her. No one else could possibly have noticed it, it was simply too quick, but it happened.

The panic was too great. Black spots filled her vision and everything seemed to stretch wide into an endless tunnel. Then the tunnel collapsed and everything was dark.

XxXxXxX

When her eyes fluttered open, the first thing she noticed was the warmth. No, it wasn't just warm, it was _wet_, and it was on her face at that. She reached up and pulled the offending item off her forehead, only to find that it was a folded wet washcloth.

She groaned and wiped the remaining moisture off her skin with the back of her hand. With one glance at her surroundings, she realized that she was in the Aikman house still, and in Jonah's room to boot. She blushed furiously, realizing now that she had been lying on his bed this whole time.

Eloise sat up, immediately regretting the movement when the blood rushed to her head. "Ooh, that was stupid." She winced, steadying herself.

Once she was sure she was stable enough to stand on her own, she rose from the bed and made her way to the open door.

She was just about to pass through the doorway just as Jonah practically materialized from thin air, nearly toppling over in fright.

"You keep doing that." She said breathlessly, one hand placed over her heart. "Jumpin' up outta nowhere, I mean."

"I don't mean to." He said. "Sorry."

She waved away his apology. "Just tell me what happened."

He tilted his head. "I was hoping you could tell me. You were gone for three hours. We almost called the doctor."

She gasped. "Three hours? Damn! I'm so far behind now! I'll never finish before-" she stopped, catching Jonah's odd sideways glance. "What?"

"You fainted. You're not really going straight back to work, are you?" he said, both surprise and concern etched in his features.

To be honest, Eloise didn't want to leave at all. She wanted to stay where it was warm and dry instead of out in the icy cold, wandering around to god-knew-where. But she supposed it did seem a little strange to want to dive back into work after her little episode.

"Of course." She smiled timidly. "I feel obligated to. Don't ask me where I got my work ethic. Lord knows it wasn't from my father." She gave a weak laugh, trying to notice the alarmed look on Jonah's face.

She lifted her hand to his face, gently brushing his cheek with her fingertips. "I'm fine, really. Good grief, I just needed a rest is all." She dropped her hand and turned away, her smile vanishing the moment she no longer faced him. God, this was an absolute catastrophe.

It was nearing eight o'clock when the looming figure of Ramsey Aikman appeared in the kitchen with an unusual smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he were trying to mask excitement. _Excitement for what?_ She wondered.

Then he spoke. "Eloise, do you mind staying a bit later tonight? We have guests coming, and I'd like to have the dining room set up... differently."

Eloise glanced up nonchalantly from the sink, immersed up to her elbows in hot, soapy water. "Differently. What would you like me to do _differently?_"

"I'd like the white table cloth instead of the green one. And candles. I'd like some to be placed in the center and lit. You'll find them in the cabinet."

"Yessir. I'll do just that." She nodded compliantly. Aikman disappeared again, leaving Eloise to the dishes once more.

She sighed inwardly, feeling grateful that she had an excuse to stay in the warm house for just a bit longer.

Eight bells came around by the time she had finally finished cleaning up the kitchen. She made her way into the dining room to retrieve the tablecloth and candles that Aikman had requested.

After a fair bit of searching through cabinets and drawers, she folded up the old green cloth and replaced it with the new one, topping it with a few red candles.

There was a slight shuffle and she looked up to find Jonah watching her from across the room. His arms were folded across his chest and his eyebrows were drawn together in an uneasy frown.

"Somethin' on your mind?" she said evenly, smoothing out the tablecloth for any wrinkles or folds. "You look nervous."

"I could have said the same about you." was his reply.

Her hands froze in place and she looked at him sharply. "What do mean by that?" she said, tilting her head.

"Earlier, when you fainted." He explained.

Eloise winced, a bit clearly embarrassed as she recollected her little episode. "Right. Well you still didn't answer my question."

When he still didn't answer, she put her hands on her hips "Come on, Jolly Green (A/N), tell the truth."

He sucked in his breath in held it in for a moment. "Mr. Aikman is having company, and he expects me to entertain."

Eloise arched an eyebrow. "Entertain, as in…?"

"It's a séance." He said quickly, his eyes cast downward at the woodwork.

Eloise straightened. She remembered when she first heard about the otherworldly summonings that occurred in this very house. It was before Michael had died and everything her family had ever worked for had been shot to hell. After she had gotten a job there, she had nearly forgotten Jonah and his employer were so famous.

She watched him for a moment, his body language, any hints on his face that would help her read his mind. "Why do you hate it so much? She asked softly.

He didn't have a chance to answer, for Ramsey Aikman entered the room, looking uncharacteristically smug. "I believe I hear our guests arriving in the driveway." He announced. "Eloise, would you please answer the door?"

"Yessir." She said, throwing Jonah one final glance before she went to greet small crowd of visitors.

The group consisted of four people: two pretty young women with short cropped hair that was pinned up in odd waves, (flappers by the looks of them) and two men, whose identical crooked noses, brown, watery eyes and sour expressions proved the two to be closely related; father and son, perhaps.

Eloise smiled politely, took their coats and led them into the dining room, where Mr. Aikman and Jonah were waiting for them.

She ushered the chattering group to the table, as Mr. Aikman greeted them with an unusual heartiness. Jonah on the other hand, only nodded politely, glancing over at his employer for silent signals that Eloise could not read.

Remaining invisible to the crowded room, Eloise backed quietly out into the hall, totally unnoticed. After a moment, when she was sure no one was coming, she deliberately walked away from the front door and toward the morgue.

Stealthily, she crept down the steps into the cold cellar; the heat of paranoia churned in her stomach and crawled through her skin.

The door to the actual morgue was unlocked, much to her surprise. It opened with an eerie creak, and she almost turned and ran. She had to know.

There was a single body lying motionless under a crisp, white sheet in the middle of the room. She approached the table, trembling as she did so.

Her thin, spidery fingers lingered hesitantly over the cloth, daring her to throw back the flimsy material and get the whole thing over with. Finally she relented and pulled the sheet away, revealing only the man's face.

Her breath hitched in her throat. It was exactly who she expected it to be, who she dreaded it to be. Hot tears spilled from her eyes and her shoulders began to tremor violently. All she could feel now was deep regret, and sorrow that she could not correct what she had done.

"God, how am I supposed to live with this?" she sobbed. "I'm so sorry, so, so sorry." She stood there for only a minute, unable to suppress her tears.

"_What're you doing here_?"

A jolt of fear ran through her and she cringed, wishing desperately that she could fold into herself and disappear from sight. But she had been seen, and hiding wouldn't help her now. Sucking in a deep breath she turned, now nose to nose with Jonah who had come down only to retrieve a set of matches to light the candles.

He stared at her in shock, thrown off guard by her reddened eyes and tear-streaked face. "Eloise?"

"I had to be sure." She whispered, her voice raw with distress. "I'm sorry." She felt a sudden lurch in her gut and grimaced. "I have t'go-" she muttered quickly, stepping around Jonah.

He grabbed at her arm, his hand clamping down on the bruise she received from the dead man. Eloise gritted her teeth and hissed, recoiling instantly.

His grip became slack, but kept hold of her. "Did you- did you know him?" he asked gently. "Eloise?"

She shook her head, the nausea growing stronger. She reached up and pried his hand away, relieving her pain. "I have to go."

Then she ran.

If it had been any other girl in the same fix, she'd have been totally screwed. But there was a backup plan. This was something she and her father had prepared for times like this.

No, not like this. Never in her dreams did she imagine this betrayal from him. She didn't believe he could hurt her like her mother had.

This place wasn't always secret, built twenty-odd years ago in the woods and used as a tool shed, it was promptly forgotten by all except the man who helped build it; Henry Cross.

The Shack was shrouded in overgrown ivy and tree branches on the outside, and was completely bare on the inside except for the moth eaten curtains that hung for dear life above the grimy window. She was grateful for shelter from the biting wind, but the climate was still frigid and merciless. At least the apartment had some form of insulation.

She was forced to put on her second dress and her gloves to keep warm at night. It was barely enough to fall asleep.

Eloise exhaled in ragged breaths as she sat huddled in the corner of the shack-like house, watching her hot breath turn to vapor in the cold air.

"I can't keep doing this."

A/N Okay, I know the jolly green giant wasn't created until 1925, but I had to make a comment about Jonah's height. He just seems really tall to me. XD


	4. Lying Dead in the Snow

**This chapter is dedicated to a particularly impressive reviewer by the name of Jo Nahmanaick! Thanks also to all my other lovely reviewers and subscribers! Ya'll rock!**

_Hold on to the world we all remember fighting for_

_There's still strength left in us yet_

_Hold on to the world we all remember dying for_

_There's still hope left in it yet_

_The snow on your face and your razor blades,_

_Twilight is bruised and there you lie._

~Flyleaf "Arise"

The next day passed without incident, and Eloise saw neither hide nor hair of Jonah, which was just as well. She was like a ghost, seemingly invisible whilst coming and going to and from work without the notice of Aikman or his gloomy apprentice.

On the day after, late in her shift, Eloise kneaded her sore, stiff muscles at the back of her neck in an attempt to alleviate the cricks that accompanied night after night of sleeping in an awkward, ninety degree angle. Thankfully the minor pains were all that ailed her so far. She was terrified at the thought of catching pneumonia or some other illness brought on by the cold.

At last she was finished with the mopping, and picked up her bucket to dump out the dirty water. She made her way to the back of the house and opened the door.

A blast of cold air hit her and she quickly carried the mop and bucket down the steps. She threw the contents of the bucket into a patch of partially melted snow beside the stairs, and wrung out the mop. A small mewling sound caught her attention and she glanced down to find a stray cat perched at her feet.

It was a scrawny little thing with patchy gray fur and a shredded left ear. He had large, olive green eyes and a black nose with a tiny splotch of pink.

Eloise smiled at the pitiful thing as he rubbed up against her leg, shedding gray as he did so. A low, rhythmic purr began to rumble in it's belly.

"Sorry kitty. I ain't got any food for ya." She said sympathetically, taking note of the feline's visible ribcage. "You poor, little thing."

At this, the cat, stepped back and hissed at Eloise, ears flattened and fangs showing. Eloise was taken aback. "Well, what's wrong with you, now? Didn't hurt yer feelings did I?"

The cat replied with another hiss. "Suit yourself." She said, and stuck out her tongue.

She walked back up the steps and opened the door. With a shrill yowl, the feral feline jumped up behind her and dashed inside, disappearing down the hall.

"No, no wait! Stupid cat." She quickly shut the door and chased after him into the living room.

She cursed under her breath. "Where'd you go, you nasty little beast?"

Another growl drew her eyes to an arm chair that sat in the corner of the room. She waited, listening for the cat to give away its position. In the hall, a door slammed shut.

The tomcat screeched and flew out from under the chair. Eloise made a lunge for him, but only succeeded in throwing herself to her knees, swiping at thin air. Someone's throat cleared, and Eloise looked up quickly to find Ramsey Aikman looming over her, his mouth set in the usual grim line.

"What on earth was that?" he demanded, glaring down at the girl.

"…A cat, sir." She replied hesitantly, still kneeling on the floor.

"You brought a cat in here?"

"I didn't do it on purpose! He just let himself in!" she protested. "I've been tryin' to catch him, but he's just too fast."

"I want him gone before I return." He said gruffly.

"Return, sir?" she asked curiously, suddenly realizing that she was still down on the floor, looking like a fool. Her cheeks gained the slightest tint of red as she straightened herself.

"I've errands to run. Ask Jonah to assist you."

Ask Jonah? Eloise bit her lip. She wasn't sure if she was ready to approach him again after the last incident, and probably never would be. She nodded nonetheless, as Aikman turned to leave.

After she was sure that he had left, she walked out into the hall to call for Jonah. But as always, he was already there, cradling the decrepit cat in his arms.

"Jo- oh." She stopped herself short. "I see you found the cat."

The mangy thing drew back its lips and snarled at her, ears flattened against its head. It recoiled into Jonah's chest and Eloise glared. "Oh, that's your game, hmm?"

Jonah stood idly with the stray, clearly confused. "Uh, what- what's all this?"

She placed her hands on her hips. "That cat 'n I got some business." She said, still glowering at the feline.

Jonah stared. "…You're making fun of me, right?"

"No." she said with the utmost seriousness. "Gimme the cat."

It snarled at her once more, green eyes narrowing in hatred. Eloise scooped the cat from Jonah's arms and held it against her chest, ignoring the low, feral growls. With a shriek, its claws swiped at her, tearing her flesh.

Eloise hissed in pain, and dropped the cat, which scrambled off into the next room. Her hand clutched at her neck where the cat had struck her. Wasting no time, she sprinted after her assailant, chasing him around the room until she eventually cornered him between a side table and an armchair. Wordlessly, she grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck and held it aloft, well away from her body. She carried it to the back door and tossed the beast out into the yard, where it landed on its feet, threw Eloise one last hateful glance and skittered away in a huff.

She slammed the door shut and grimaced, feeling the pain throb in her neck. She pressed a hand to the cuts, realizing that the warm, stickiness that oozed from it must be blood. She turned about, nearly colliding with Jonah. He stared down at her with an unidentifiable expression on his face.

"Let me look at it." He said quietly, gently pulling her hand away from the wound. He frowned. "It drew blood."

Eloise huffed, placing on arm across her chest. "Of course he did. Mean little rat."

"You should clean this." Jonah said. "I'll help you."

Before she could protest, he had ushered her into the nearest bathroom and sat her down on a small bench that was used to place clothes and towels. Wordlessly, he pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a few clean rags. Kneeling beside her, he dabbed a bit of the alcohol on a rag and pressed the cloth against the girl's scratch.

A small yelp escaped her lips and she flinched. Jonah pulled back. "Sorry."

She shook her head. "No, no. I knew it was coming. Just get it over with."

Tentatively, he brought the rag back to her skin, dabbing up the blood. She bit her lip as the already throbbing cut began to sting like a mother.

This continued for a few moments, until finally, Jonah capped the bottle of alcohol and began scooping up the bloodied rags.

Eloise stood, brushing off her dress, and glanced down at Jonah, who was still on the floor. He started to rise but she placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. She knelt beside him and gently pecked his cheek.

"Thank you." She said, refusing to look at him. "I should go make dinner now."

XxXxXxX

Her dreams that night were unspeakably terrifying. The first thing she was conscious of was that she was lying on her back, staring up at an impossibly dirty ceiling. The next thing was that the only part of her body she could move was her head.

Thick leather straps were clasped tightly around her wrists and ankles, and two more were tactfully placed across her bare chest and hips. She pulled at the straps, which only grew tighter as she struggled, cutting off her circulation.

Ramsey Aikman seeped out of a shadowy corner of the room

Blood filled her throat and mouth, as she squirmed. She tried to scream for them to stop, but the blood gurgled and spat everywhere. This earned her another deep incision down her left thigh and a scream tore from her chest.

Aikman pulled away and walked up behind her where she could no longer see him. Tears streaming, she looked at Jonah imploringly. His face remained deadpan. Silently he approached the table on which she lay and climbed atop it, straddling her hips.

He raised his arm, a small glint of metal held in his hand; another scalpel. His electric blue eyes bore into her with complete apathy as he brought the scalpel down hard.

XxXxXxX

The next day she awoke with a deep depression and longing for her family. She wanted her daddy, and her sister, and she especially wanted her traitorous mother. After she scraped up some money, she went out and purchased a breakfast of lukewarm soup from a vendor in the streets.

She shuffled through the half-melted snow and slush, eventually arriving in front of St. Bernadette's.

She made her way inside, where a nun ushered her into the head office and asked her to wait for Sister Mary Grace to speak with her.

She stood with her arms wrapped around her chest, waiting with bleak hope as Sister Mary Grace entered the office, looking decidedly grim.

"Sister Mary Grace." Eloise nodded in greeting. "Is something wrong? Has Emily been fightin' again?"

Her gray face retained its troubled expression. "No dear one. I must ask you to sit down, for this may shock you."

Eloise's brow furrowed in confusion and anxiety. "Yessum." She said compliantly, and took a seat across from the elderly sister.

"Miss Eloise, child. It brings me sorrow to bear this news to you. Your sister… has been adopted."

A lump rose in her throat; it was her heart, she supposed, for it was thumping so loudly it was nearly deafening. It couldn't be so. Her last relative; stolen away from her without ever saying goodbye.

"We tried to contact you but you, but we were told that your father moved out of his apartment, and left no forwarding address. I also sent word to your place of work just minutes before you arrived, but I suppose that was quite redundant since you're here now." The nun paused for a moment then continued on. "They're a particularly nice family with money to spare. You can rest assured that she will be well taken cared of in her new home. Would you like the address? I'm sure they'd be glad to let you visit her!"

Eloise slumped back in the chair, processing the old woman's words. Her place of work. That meant Aikman and Jonah would find out she was homeless, and they'd laugh at her for sure. They'd see her as some pathetic vagabond and fire her worthless self. Or worse, what if they felt sorry for her? What if every look they cast in her direction was full of pity and shame? She could never return to work like that. Her pride wouldn't let her. Never, never-

"Miss Eloise, where exactly are you residing now?" Sister Mary Grace's voice broke her disparaging reverie.

Eloise's face slackened and she stared up at Sister Mary Grace with a look that could only be described as empty. "Nowhere." She deadpanned. "I've haven't got any real place to stay."

The old woman's wrinkled mouth formed a perfect "O". "My dear girl! Why haven't you said anything before! Eloise- where are you going?"

The girl had risen from her chair and shuffled aimlessly to the door, ignoring the nun as if in a trance. Hand resting on the knob of the door, she mumbled darkly in reply: "Southern pride. Won't take charity from no one. Raised that way."

She left without another word. She would never return to the orphanage.

XxXxXxX

The majority of the snow may have melted, but the slush and filth of the sidewalk ice still remained. Several times Eloise lost her balance and landed on her backside, which would smart for days to come.

Like a zombie, she walked adrift in the streets without rhyme or reason. Directionless and blank-faced. For hours she walked until her legs were sore and throbbing, and could walk no more. She found a place to sit a few meters from a street corner and slumped against the brick of a building wall. She sat, sore and numb from the cold.

A scraggly rat feasted on a scrap of garbage from a nearby can which had been overturned, its contents spilled onto the grimy slush and ice.

Eloise's stomach growled. She hadn't eaten anything since that morning. It was dark now, and no one was selling food at this hour. No one she could afford.

At first, when there was no longer any feeling in her toes, she almost made herself get up and go back to St. Bernadette's, where at least it was warm. But then, after a while, she didn't mind it. And the more she thought about how alone she really was, she _wanted_ it to come. She welcomed the enveloping darkness that slowly edged in her vision and soon, her whole body relaxed, unmoving. In the end, it didn't really matter anymore. If she stayed in the horrid shack for much longer, she'd have died soon anyway.

Maybe she'd see Michael where she was going.

XxXxXxX

A pale yellowed ceiling greeted her vision when her eyes fluttered open. Heaven was particularly warm, she decided, and looked an _awful_ lot like the Aikman house. She sucked in a breath and sighed.

Without warning, Ramsey Aikman's fearsome face suddenly appeared over hers, yet it was not angry, nor was it jovial. In fact, he appeared to be a tad fatherly. After a moment, when he seemed to be sure that she was conscious, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Miss Cross. We need to talk about your housing situation."

**A/N Le gasp! What shall await or heroine now? I know I'm slow in getting to the gory parts, but they're comin! Pinky promise! Please review! Thanks much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!**


	5. Tough As Nails

**Another chapter up and published! Thanks oh so very much to the greatest reviewers ever! The long wait was entirely my fault. I procrastinated and just didn't get it done. Sorry everyone! Oh, and another thanks to anyone who added me to favorites of story alerts! I can't forget you guys too!**

"Miss Cross, where is your father now?"

Her mouth went dry and tight, refusing to open and her bottom lip trembled slightly, threatening to cry. But she shook her head.

Ramsey Aikman's eyebrows rose a tad. "You don't know then?"

Eloise looked at him miserably, the down at her lap in shame.

"Your being a young girl without a guardian- it's only right that you stay with us."

Eloise head lifted and she stared speechlessly, as if she didn't quite understand his proposition. "I- I don't understand." She stuttered, clenching nervously at the sheets that were layered over her.

Aikman tilted his head. "What's not to understand, my dear? We learned of you predicament only a few hours ago, and I came to the solution that you should live here in Goatswood for the time being."

"But," he added "you are still to be employed as our housekeeper. Your pay will now be the free rent."

Eloise sank back into her pillow, totally exhausted. This was good news, though a tad bittersweet. In a way she was glad to have a permanent roof over her head, but it wounded her feel like such charity-case. Working for the rent would certainly ease her aforementioned pride and make her less of a burden in her mind. She refused to be so vulnerable.

Her face contorted, and for a moment, she appeared to be on the verge of tears. Whatever was about to well up quickly sank into repose, replaced with a grateful smile.

"Thank you." She rasped, truly meaning it. "I won't disappoint you."

Aikman eventually left her to get some rest, though it did not come easily. She awoke early, feeling grimy, and decided to take a well-deserved bath.

She made her way to the bathroom with a pained gait, trying to make as little noise as possible. She wasn't ready to be seen. She shut the bathroom door behind her and unbuttoned her dress, which slid down her shoulders and fell to the floor in a heap. Eloise picked up the gray bundle and turned to place it in on the little towel bench when she caught sight of her naked form in the mirror.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Staring back in wide, dark-rimmed eyes was her ragged reflection. Her already sharp cheekbones had become hollow and sickly, and her straw-yellow hair was limp and dull, to say nothing of her pallid skin. Her ribs were plainly visible and her skin was tight around her bones. Eloise withered, tugging a few strands of lifeless hair. How could she have gone around looking so horridly repulsive? She looked like a corpse!

"I belong in the morgue." she whispered aloud. "I've never felt so ugly."

When she finally shook off her moment of self-hatred, she finished undressing and took a short, yet thorough shower. She didn't really want to put on the dress she had just taken off, as it wasn't particularly clean. But she had no other dress to wear, so it would have to do.

After towel-drying her hair and combing out the tangles, she timidly walked down into the kitchen, hoping to prepare a meal before Aikman and Jonah came downstairs.

She baked half a dozen biscuits from scratch, and boiled a few eggs. She laid out the honey and butter and the salt and pepper shakers on the table which now had a dark green tablecloth instead of the usual white one. She returned to the stove, pulling out the eggs and placing them in a bowl to be peeled.

"Good morning."

Eloise froze, took a deep breath, and turned to face the speaker. "Good morning, Jonah." She smiled weakly. "I made breakfast."

He smiled as well. "Yes I see. Thank you."

Eloise stood with her hands clasped, waiting for him to sit. After a moment when it seemed he was just going to stay rooted to his spot, she frowned. "Well don't just stand there makin' me nervous! Siddown 'n eat!"

He chuckled at this and pulled out a chair. "Yes ma'am." He nodded, obeying her.

She placed the food before him and went to the front door to fetch the milk bottles from off the porch. She came back, two near-frozen milk bottles in hand and placed them down on the table next to the eggs.

Ramsey Aikman was already sitting down as well when she made it back. "Good morning, Eloise." He said pleasantly. "I see you've already gotten a head start on the day."

She smiled shyly but did not answer. Instead she placed a plate before her employer and turned to leave and start her chores.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Jonah called out, stopping her in her tracks.

She turned slowly and shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

"You should eat, Eloise. Really. Not just because you live here now and you're entitled to it, but I'm also a little suspicious that you're just trying to poison us."

A smiled twitched at her lips and she nodded. "I guess ya'll figured me out then. Fine. I'll eat."

Eating with Aikman and Jonah was surprisingly pleasant, and it reminded her of when her family was still together and they ate at the table everyday. Conversation was sparse, but it made her feel more comfortable than she imagined.

At one point, she caught Aikman looking at her with a thoughtful expression. "Eloise, what else do you wear?" he said, rather vaguely.

Her brow crinkled. "Sir?"

"What I mean to say is, is that the only dress you own?" he finally clarified.

"Oh, um" Eloise's cheeks bloomed pink at this, embarrassed to look so needy. "No sir. I have two more, but they- I don't-"

She paused, licking her lips. Her only possessions were still in the shack, stowed away in the cloth bag she had taken from home. "They aren't here."

Both men were silent for a moment, their puzzled stares giving her great discomfort. After a moment, Aikman nodded. "If you wish to retrieve your belongings- wherever they may be- you can fetch them whenever you wish."

Her fists clenched in her lap, trying her best not to appear embarrassed. She stuttered a thank-you, and tried to avoid the subject from then on.

She cleared dishes and mopped and swept the floors until nothing else was needed to be done cleaning-wise. Jonah and Aikman were down in the morgue, only coming back up two times to receive the bodies of an old man and a middle aged woman.

Eloise took this opportunity to slip out and recover her bag of clothes and other personal belongings from the shack. She wrote a vague note in case she was missed, stating simply that she was out and would soon return.

It was getting warmer, she decided as she stepped outside. She might not need to wear her big coat anymore.

In about a half hour she trekked to the shack and found that her things were still there. Not wasting time, she took the bag and began her journey back to the funeral home.

On the way, only a couple miles from her destination, Eloise was crossing the street when two men came stumbling out of a bar, laughing and clutching at their sides. Eloise quickened her pace, trying to avoid the scene, when one of the strangers spotted her making her way around them.

"Oi! Larkin, don't we know this girl?" the man said, summoning his friend to his side.

Larkin was a smaller man of obviously Irish descent, with a ruddy complexion and sharp eyes. He was dressed in well worn-out work clothes and wore a cap over his reddish-brown hair. He gave Eloise one glance, and immediately the lights in his head lit up.

"Ain't she Henry Cross's kid? Aw hell, I do believe we're lookin' at Miss Eloise! Oh I remember the day yer Da brought ye in ta work then ye were just a wee thing. Absolutely precious, ye were!"

"Aye, ye were a lil' hell-raiser at that. Larkin, do ye remember the time she brou' two squirrels into the factory?" the other man chuckled.

Eloise flushed at this, vaguely remembering the time she snuck in the two rodents at her father workplace. She couldn't have been more than six of seven years old. She did not, however, recall either of the two men that so easily recognized her. She mustered a nervous smile, hoping to make the best of it.

"Yeah, we miss havin' yer Da around the factory. Never shoulda sacked 'im. Never shoulda sacked 'im." Larkin continued, shaking his head in disappointment.

Eloise frowned. "Sacked? He was _fired_?"

Larkin and his friend tilted their heads, staring at her in identical expressions. "Dinnae he tell you, honey?" Larkin asked quizzically. "It's been near three weeks since he left."

Eloise swallowed, feeling like a complete fool. "I have to go now. It was nice talkin' to ya'll." she said quickly. She ran off before either man could stop her.

She arrived at Aikman's Funeral Home, breathless and bewildered. Staggering up the walkway, she paused to catch her breath before entering.

"He was fired." He said aloud, as if trying to make sense of the word. "Fired."

Henry Cross had lost his job at the factory. He had lost his only source of income, and they would never crawl out of the bottomless pit called Destitution. Henry Cross did not abandon her out of negligence and indifference, she realized, but out of desperation. That was why Emily had been taken in by St. Bernadette's. That was why Eloise had been left to fend for herself. They had a better chance of survival on their own than with their father, who couldn't stand to see them suffer because of his failure.

In a daze, she walked up the steps to the house and padded inside. The door closed and she sighed.

She could take it.

A/N Okay, I know this was short, but I really wanted to get this out before I lost inspiration. I'm not particularly pleased with this chapter since there's not a whole lot going on. You could call it a filler chapter, but some details were a bit necessary. The next update will be around regular length and will have MUCH more action. It'll be a hot, bloody mess. I promise! Please review, even if its just a simple "update soon!" I'd appreciate it to no end!


	6. In Which the Cat Has a Short Cameo

**Sorry for the delay. My big brother passed away Friday night, and it really shook up my life. This chapter is dedicated to my brother, whom I love to depths that no one can fathom. My love does not end with yours. Rest in peace, hero.**

Take a shower, shine your shoes,

You got no time to lose,

You are young men, you must be livin'

Go now, you are forgiven.

~The General by Dispatch

The next few days were awkwardly pleasant. Eloise was still unaccustomed to this extreme hospitality, but she kept up with her work and saw much of Jonah and Aikman.

Her sleep though, was fitful as she struggled with thoughts of her encounter with her father's old co-workers, wondering if they would ever cross paths again. She hoped not, longing to avoid a painful explanation to the two men, as nice as they were.

A funeral reception was held at Aikman's Funeral home. Eloise spent the day before and the morning of cleaning with vigor, as many people were expected to appear. But Eloise speculated that perhaps it wasn't the multitude of guests that Aikman had her clean so thoroughly, but because they were particularly influential people. People, she suspected, who may or may not schedule a séance in the near future.

However, she made no observation known to anyone, and did as she was told.

It was near noon when the wake began. People garbed in traditional black came filing in, a low buzz of conversation amongst them as they walked around, offering their condolences to the wife of the deceased, and mingling solemnly with the other mourners.

The deceased was a man of about sixty-four years; Mr. Anthony Talbot. Talbot had been a fairly successful watch and jewelry repairman, once an apprentice to his father, who had also inherited the business from his own father. Talbot was twenty-nine when he met his wife Lauren, a young, pretty blonde who was forever faithful and had four of his children, only one of which survived his childhood, but died at the age of twenty-two, fighting on the Western Front only a few months before the armistice was called, and Germany backed out for good.

At least, this was what Eloise had gathered from the gossiping old women who stood around, flitting their gloved hands and dabbing their heavily-powdered noses with silky handkerchiefs. Also, she learned that Mr. Talbot may, or may not have had an affair with Mrs. Rosenblatt, a curvy widow who was apparently infamous for luring men from their wives and breaking their sacred vows of marriage.

Eloise bit her lip, trying not to laugh at these busy-bodies who spoke so ill of the dead, and seemed to have not a kind opinion in their wrinkly old hides for anyone.

She didn't have any real place here, since she had already done so much of the cleaning. All she had to do now was stand back, keeping an eye out for anything out of place. Feeling unneeded, she casually made her way to the room where the casket was held, people lingering around it, but not looking directly at the man who used to be Mr. Anthony Talbot.

There was nothing out of the ordinary here, so defeated, she marched upstairs to what had been designated as "her room" and sat down on the bed. Indeed, this was the room she slept in regularly now, but it still didn't quite feel like hers. She supposed it would over time give her feelings of ownership, but she couldn't be certain. Not much was, anymore.

She sat still, staring out her window and thinking about various topics that weren't necessarily good or bad, when a soft knock on her door pulled her attention out of her dreamy state.

"Come in." she said pleasantly.

The door swung gently open, revealing Jonah as her visitor. A light smile graced his lips and he tilted his head. "I thought I would find you here." He said.

Eloise shrugged. "It was mighty gloomy downstairs. I needed to separate myself for a bit." She looked at him thoughtfully. "You wanna sit with me?"

He swallowed, suddenly hesitant. "Is that alright?"

Eloise arched a brow. "I asked _you_, remember?"

Jonah stepped in, and closed the door behind him. He sat on the far end of the bed, careful not to sit uncomfortably close to Eloise. "What were you doing in here all alone?"

"Thinkin'." She replied, tilting her head back as she looked at him. "Just clearing my head a bit."

They were both silent for a minute, which was terribly awkward for the both of them, though neither tried to show it. Finally "Does it bother you, Eloise?" Jonah said.

Eloise stared him sideways. "Does _what_ bother me, Jonah?"

"Me. What I do. And I don't just mean working for Mr. Aikman. I'm talking about the-" he trailed off, trying to find a good way to articulate his worries.

"The séances," Eloise finished. "You're worried about what I think of you." She watched him suck in a nervous breath. "Jonah- you're my only friend. I think the world of you."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Y-you do?"

An impish grin crept upon her face. "Don't look so shocked. I can't understand why you believed I'd think so little of you." Her southern drawl surfaced as she teased him.

Then, he leaned in, just as she did, and both met in a kiss, light and pure. Contact was brief, but a heat surged through Eloise and she found herself coming back for more. The kiss became surprisingly fierce, tongue and lip and a bit of teeth. A soft whimper came from her throat as he pulled her in closer, pressing her up against him.

A thud from below caused the couple to jump in panic, fearing that they were about to be caught. Although no angry employer or unsuspecting mourner walked through their door, they broke away from their embrace, thoroughly embarrassed.

Unsurprisingly they found it difficult to look each other in the eye, afraid of what their own might betray. Eloise stood and smoothed her dress.

"I ought to go downstairs." She said, flustered. "We'll talk about this later."

XxXxXxX

Eventually the mourners went home, leaving Eloise to clean up the mess. She stood in the kitchen now, clearing up the counters with a wet rag._ The cat is back,_ she realized with disdain. She could see the infernal beastie through the window; it was plodding across the damp lawn, leaving distinct paw prints behind in the cooling mud.

_I hope you don't expect me to let you in,_ she thought at the feline, _not after that little _gift_ you gave me last time._

She gave her "battle scar" an absentminded scratch as the cat pounced on something Eloise couldn't make out from inside. Whatever it was stalking apparently didn't get away, as the cat started to munch on its prey.

Eloise's nose wrinkled in disgust, and she threw the rag in the sink. It was going to be a long day.

XxXxXxX

It wasn't the least bit surprising when Aikman eventually instructed Eloise to set up the dining room as she did the night she identified the man she had murdered. There was to be another séance, and Eloise was invited to stay and watch.

The guests were few, and all around their fifties and sixties. The widow Talbot was among them. The all gathered around the table except for Aikman and Eloise, who stood back and watched. Jonah sat at the head of the table and asked everyone to join hands. They did. Jonah sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, clearly uneasy.

Eloise held back, feeling distressed. So this was what made Aikman famous. This was what Jonah couldn't stand. She didn't know what to expect, knowing there were about a thousand ways the night could go.

Jonah writhed in his chair, sputtering and gasping as if unseen hands had a grip around his throat. He shuddered and bowed his head. A hush fell over the small assembly, and the room tensed in wait.

A pink candle flickered, ever so slightly. "Murphy?"

Mrs. Talbot started at this, opening her eyes and whipping her head around the room for the source of the voice.

It came again, this time, much clearer. "Murphy? Where are you, son?" This voice was masculine, and very gravelly. Clearly it's owner was advanced in age and a heavy smoker to boot. Still, as the guests glanced at each other in awe, Eloise couldn't help but keep her eye fixed on Jonah, whose head was still down.

Slowly, Jonah's dark head rose, staring ahead at nothing in particular. "Where is my son?" he said in the voice of Anthony Talbot. "Where's my boy Murphy?"

The voice was sad and confused, and it nearly broke Eloise's heart to listen. The others, however, were rapt. Widow Talbot asked her husband a question, but the spirit did not seem to hear her. Instead, he looked around the room longingly through Jonah's baby blues.

"I want my son back." He said finally. "I want my boy to come home."

The spirit left them feeling confused, cheated, and cold.

**A/N Again, a short update, but it's the best I could do under the circumstances. The last two lines pretty much sum up my emotional state right now. Please review**.


	7. A Regular Cujo

**Well, I'm sorry it's been forever, but I can't spend the whole chapter apologizing, can I? This was such a bitch to write, I swear. So a special shout out to Jo Nahmanaick for being a fabulous friend and confidant! Check out her fic, Goatswood Blues! You'll enjoy it, I promise! And also to Vivamor, who sent me a particularly sweet review. Also thanks and much love to all my reviewers and subscribers! Your support has been very much appreciated!**

Hold me  
Even though I know you're leaving  
And show me  
All the reasons you would stay  
It's just enough to feel your breath on mine  
To warm my soul and ease my mind  
You've got to hold me and show me now

~One Moment More by Mindy Smith

The guests promptly left, and Eloise went upstairs to her room, tightlipped and pale-faced. She refused to speak to either Jonah or Aikman, which was just as well since neither attempted to communicate with her after the disaster of a séance.

She undressed and climbed into bed, yet sleep only came in short fits. Thunder jolted her from her thin grasp of slumber. A storm raged outside, and rain endlessly barraged the roof and window panes. Lightning one moment followed by more thunder. Eloise hated thunder. Even at this age, it frightened her so terribly, and she curled up with her knees against her chest and the covers tugged up over her head.

After a few short minutes, she decided she couldn't be alone, and she crept from her bed and out into the hall. She slunk into the room just as Jonah sat up from his bed. Evidently he couldn't sleep either. "Eloise?" he mumbled confusedly as she shut the door and crossed the room over to his side.

"Don't talk." She said tersely, pulling the sheets back from Jonah's form. Wordlessly, she crawled under the sheets and pushed him aside to make room for her. He didn't protest.

She could sense his hesitance but ignored him anyway. She needed this, and she wasn't about to let formalities get in her way. Her arms were tucked against herself as Jonah wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her up closer to his chest where she finally began to relax. With a deep sigh, she felt her eyelids slide shut.

Eloise woke in the wee hours of the morning, Jonah still fast asleep next to her. She lay still for a moment, listening to his rhythmic breathing till she began to feel restless.

She left, careful not to wake him or Mr. Aikman, and crept into the bathroom to wash up. She combed her hair into two soft plaits, a style uncommon and unfashionable for her era. She scrubbed her face till the skin turned pink and fresh, and she started on her morning work.

There wasn't much to do today in the vicinity of housework. The laundry had been done just the other day, and one didn't need to dust every waking moment. So a good sweeping and clearing of dishes was all that Eloise had to do that morning.

It was nearing noon and Eloise was sitting down alone at the table, practicing her needlework. Her bare toes skimmed across the cool kitchen floor, and she hummed to herself contentedly. She didn't need a lamp; the natural light straining through the window was enough to see her work clearly. She felt good today, inexplicably good.

There was a creak of metal on metal; the unmistakable sound of a door swinging on its hinges. Eloise paused, waiting. There were no footsteps following. Maybe the wind blew the door open, she mused. She got up from her table to investigate. Eloise walked into the hall, and sure enough, the door had swung wide open letting the cool hair flow in. She sighed and closed it, making sure to lock it as well, before returning to the kitchen.

But there was something wrong. She couldn't see it, hear it, but it definitely told her it was standing right behind her. Eloise turned, at first seeing nothing, then looking down she noticed the intruder.

A familiar face, yet entirely unwelcome. The cat stood before her, leaning slightly to its left, its fur badly matted and grungier than ever.

The thing jerked toward her in spastic bursts, as if in a great deal of pain. It cocked its head; ears flattened back against its skull, staggering forward like a drunk. Eloise sucked in a breath, instantly recognizing this as a threat. The cat drew back its scarred lips and omitted a low, rumbling growl of hatred.

Maybe, she thought, she could trap the cat with something before it could bite her. But what? Her eyes flicked to the laundry basket to the left of her, lying several feet away. It was so far, and she was terrified to move, but this cat was mad, truly mad. What choice did she have? Eloise edged toward the wicker basket, scared to death that she might make a sudden move that might disturb the cat. Her throat was so dry, she was spitting cotton, and her stinging eyes threatened to spill over with tears of fear.

She snatched the basket as the cat lurched forward at an alarming speed. Just as the diseased monster was in reach, the basket was dropped and the cat was trapped. But alas, it would not be heavy enough to keep the spitting creature from pushing its way out. Eloise threw all her weight atop the basket before it toppled. The cat screamed and hissed and cried at her with absolute loathing, trying its damnedest to escape its prison.

"Jonah!" she cried, bordering hysteria. "Mr. Aikman!"

Time seemed to drag on as she waited for someone to hear her plea. Finally, Aikman appeared.

"Eloise, what is this?" Aikman demanded. Jonah was trailing immediately behind him, looking on at her in confusion and a touch of worry.

"The cat is rabid! Its-" the basket shuddered and Eloise whimpered, trying to steady the basket. She looked up at the men, desperately. "Please help me!"

Aikman barked at Jonah to fetch a sheet from the linen closet, and fast. He gave him a "yes sir" and dashed out to retrieve the linen. He was back in an instant.

They laid the sheet down on the floor and slid the basket over the sheet, careful not to drag it under as they navigated it to the middle. Jonah and Aikman picked up two corners of the sheet and drew them close. Swiftly, Eloise lifted the basket, and the men tied their corners together, transforming the plain sheet into a makeshift bag.

Eloise cringed as they carried the screeching bag out into the yard at the back of the house. She finally found the courage to follow them, in case she was needed.

The bag screamed in protest as Jonah struggled to keep it still. Aikman ran back into the house and returned, wielding a small revolver. Eloise gasped, feeling sick. She knew what was coming, and she didn't want to be there when it happened.

Unwilling to watch, she ran inside into the living room and sat and waited until finally, two shots were fired, each sound echoing in her ears. She lowered her head though it wasn't out of sadness or respect. She wasn't sure why she did it, but it seemed necessary at the time.

Jonah came back inside first. Eloise looked up at him. "Is it dead?" she said bluntly. When he nodded, her shoulders dropped and she looked away for a moment, finding the time to accept this.

"Walk with me." Jonah said suddenly.

She looked at him sideways. "Will Mr. Aikman let us do that?"

"I already asked him. We haven't got much to do today, and I thought you might need it." He said sincerely, a small, encouraging smile formed on his lips.

"You're so thoughtful." Eloise said, attempting a weak smile as she rose to peck his cheek.

"I have to do something first before we go anywhere. Why don't you go get ready? I shouldn't take too long."

They parted, and Eloise left upstairs to wash her face, as it was surely flushed and a bit sweaty from previous events. After finishing that, she combed her hair out a bit and twisted it back into a single braid.

Jonah met her at the bottom of the stairs, holding her oversized coat out for her. She accepted it and soon they were both out the door and down the road. Both were silent at first for some time, marching tensely beside one another as time dragged on. Finally, it was Eloise who broke the silence. "We never talked about yesterday."

They walked along a few paces before he answered her. "You mean the séan-"

"I mean the kiss." Eloise interrupted. "I'd like to talk about that first, if you don't mind."

Jonah looked at her, a little sidetracked. "What's to talk about?"

Now that was a question indeed. What did she want to talk about? Was she going to obsess over what the kiss meant, or whether they were a couple, or did she want to put an end to the little scandal? None of these things crossed her mind. There was _nothing_ she wanted to _talk_ about.

She stopped dead. "Do it again."

He stared at her, wondering if she was joking. He hoped she wasn't. Eloise took a step closer, her hands reaching up to his collar pulling him to her face. Their kiss was small and sweet, not nearly as ferocious as the last. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, a cliché that just felt so right.

His lips trailed up to her eyelid, where she whispered "Does it hurt?" He hovered over her for a second, mind wandering.

"Every time."

A/N ITS CUJO! The cat was freaking out the other day and scared me half to death. So I dedicate this chapter to my morbidly obese little baby. Sorry there wasn't any gore in this. As you all know I've been having a tough time, so the story has changed a bit. BUT there will be plenty o' gore within the next chapter, which hopefully will be longer than the last few, but don't hold me to it.


	8. Oh, Run Away With Me, My Love!

**WOOO! Update, yeah. Thanks so much for your reviews and favorites! You are the ones who keep this story alive! Well, school is gonna be out by Friday, so updates should be more frequent. I want to thank everyone for their thoughtfulness and condolences for me and my family. God bless all of you. My updates are going to be regularly shorter in length than normal from now on. Less pressure. **

See the Pyramids along the Nile

Watch the sunrise from the tropic isle

Just remember darlin' all the while

You belong to me.

~You Belong to Me, by Lifehouse/ Jason Wade

Jonah stared at her for the longest time, obvious turmoil running rampant behind his baby blues. Eloise tensed beside him, unsure of how to address this tactfully. "What aren't you telling me?" she said softly.

"You- you can't" he stammered, but words escaped him. "Oh, Eloise." he said in exasperation.

Eloise waited patiently for him when a sudden thought struck her: When was the last time she had been truly happy? When had she last laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes? When did she ever feel at home with her family and friends? She couldn't recall any of this, and it frustrated her so. She began to cry. This just wasn't fair. This story was too dark and humorless, and its grip around her throat was tightening.

"I can't stand it here!" she began to wail. Thoughts of her family and the cat flicked through her mind and she cried even harder. "I'm just too weak."

Jonah, though a bit startled by her abrupt outburst, only took her by the shoulders and leaned to meet her at eye level. "Eloise, I'm leaving Goatswood." He said as Eloise choked back a sob and blinked at him through watery eyes. "I'm leaving here tomorrow night with some money I've saved up. It's not much, but I can find work somewhere."

Eloise stared as she listened. _Ask me,_ she willed, _Ask me to go with you! Please, take me too!_ If he didn't let her come, she would probably be sick.

"But," he continued "After today, I realize that I can't just leave you here alone. I- I guess what I'm asking is, will you run away with me?"

It was unreal, something you only read about in books or see in movies. Hell, it was almost clichéd. But it wasn't any less real than she was. It was her only chance to move on, and she would be damned if she missed out.

There was no question that she would never let him go anywhere without her, and she told him so after she burst into tears once more. These episodes were becoming increasingly routine, and she made a mental note to toughen up a bit.

The plan was simple enough, but carrying it out required stealth and some deal of guts, especially for Eloise, who was terrified at the thought of sneaking away. Tomorrow afternoon, Eloise would leave the house under the pretense that she was running errands and buying groceries. This would take a couple of hours since she would be traveling on foot, so her absence wouldn't be missed if she arrived home late. Instead, she would take small rations of food and water and hide herself down near the train tracks.

"When the train comes by at 9:40, we'll hitch a ride in one of the boxcars." Jonah explained. "I've checked the schedule. The 9:40 will take us south to Pennsylvania, and then we catch another that'll take us to Raleigh, North Carolina. I looked at a map and it shouldn't take us more than a few days. We'll have to walk from there, though."

Eloise bit her lip, trying to spot any flaws in the plan. "Just one thing. How'll you leave the house without bein' noticed?"

But Jonah shook his head. "You just leave that to me. Aickman is my problem, not yours."

The eventual trip back home was uncomfortable to say the least. Both could see the other's excitement but didn't know how to address it.

She peered at the gift. It was a small, rounded metal trinket with a pretty little rose imprint on one side, possibly once a charm for a bracelet. "Oh, it's just _love_ly." Eloise drawled, flashing him a charming little smile that only grew when his cheeks reddened.

"It was my mother's. I thought you would look good in it if I ever find a chain for it." He admitted.

"Thank you." She said breathlessly, and squeezed his hand. She dare not kiss him this close to home. It could ruin everything for them.

She smiled again and walked haltingly to the door. Jonah scratched his head. "I know you're scared, but if it is any consolation, I am extremely fond of you. And I mean that."

XxXxXxX

She snuck into his room again. The was no thunderstorm this time, but she needed to be close to him right now, lest she lose her nerve and abandon the plan. They both laid quietly, waiting for sleep to come when Jonah began to thread his fingers through her hair and brush gently.

"Never go anywhere without me." Eloise murmured so softly, she wasn't sure she said it aloud.

But there was no answer- only a tug through her hair, as he was combing it again. She closed her eyes and suppressed a burst of heat that only had one name. This was becoming impossible. There was a long road that lay ahead, and at times she was certain she would feel regret. The last thing she wanted was to lose her final connection to her old life. Abandonment was her greatest fear- it had plagued her for years up to this very moment. When she left, there would be absolutely no chance of reuniting with her family. No Daddy, no Emily. Just she and Jonah. Maybe, she thought a bit scandalously, they would have their own family together one day if all went right. But then, very little went right for her in the first place.

Her one and only advantage was her remarkable ability to survive. But it was weak, and she felt it. Felt the thin screen between her world and this bend and stretch. She knew that _she_ was losing it, but would stick with Jonah all the way through. She closed her eyes, hoping beyond hope that she would sleep tonight without a struggle.

And Jonah, left wide awake beside her, contemplated her impossible request. _Never go anywhere without me._ He could still feel the cool weight of her hair on his fingers, and he began to seriously question his own tattered sanity. Why hadn't he answered her? It left him feeling terribly guilty, and it was his mission to prove to her that wherever he would go in this life and the next, he would always be at her side.

A/N Reviews appreciated, please!


	9. Thou Art Dead

**God, you guys It's been way too long! I'm so sorry, but things are hectic here and I feel awful for leaving ya'll hanging. Short, but an update is an update, ain't it?**

Jonah had never come. She waited and waited by the tracks for hours, alone and paranoid that the worst had happened. And the worst was that Jonah had been caught running to her, had been dragged back home and beaten like an animal by Aickman for his insolence. The thought made her sick, and she couldn't just leave now. The train came rumbling by and she was tempted to jump it, but where would she go? How would she take care of herself without Jonah? And above all, she couldn't just betray him like that. Not the last person on this earth she truly trusted not to abandon her.

She waited four days before she heard what had happened. It was everywhere- the paper was in everyone's hands, and the story was the primary discussion at everyone's dinner table.

Aickman was dead, mysteriously burned to cinders with other members of the séance. All were accounted for except for one: Jonah.

XxXxXxX

Eloise almost didn't go in. She stood on the front porch of the Aikman house, arms folded and facing the door. The house was empty, she knew that, but if she did go in, would she find an answer?

The door was unlocked, much to her convenience. Now inside, the house was cold and unlit as she walked timidly through the halls. The air was unbearably still and quiet and made her all the more nervous. She reached into her pocket, fiddling with the little trinket to soothe her fears. Her hand slipped, and the metal coin clattered to the floor and rolled away. She chased after it until it finally rolled to a stop. It took her a moment to realize she was standing directly in front of the door to the morgue.

Her throat went dry as the desert. Something was down there; something black and unforgiving. And it wanted to meet her very much.

Knowing full well that she would regret this, Eloise turned the knob and swung open the door. She could see very little as the room was only illuminated by a single small window.

It was much cooler down here as it always was, but something about this cold was instinctively unfriendly. Eloise walked across into the work room where the gurneys and the furnace lay. What a mess. Bottles of chemicals and nasty-looking tools for preparing the bodies were strewn across the room haphazardly.

A slight tickling sensation appeared on the back of her hand. Eloise glanced down at a black, hairy, eight-legged speck creep across her skin and shrieked, shaking her hand wildly to send the thing flying. The offending spider fell to the ground and crawled out of sight, much to her relief. She looked up from her embarrassing episode and gasped.

There was a man standing in front of the furnace. Only it wasn't a man, she was sure of it. It had a hollow face and ghostly white skin with tiny, bloody symbols carved into the flesh. A cold terror swept across her as the thing stared down at her with white, lidless eyes and she felt its anger radiating in waves. It hated her. It wanted her to suffer. It reached out to her, clawing and grasping with a filthy bandaged arm and Eloise screamed. She backtracked and stepped on an empty bottle of formaldehyde. She fell back, unable to slow down or regain her balance and all her weight fell onto a box of tools and instruments used for embalming and such.

The pain was brief but undoubtedly agonizing. There was no movement- she was paralyzed now- and the only sound that came was the bubbling of her own blood and saliva streaming from the torn cavern that used to be her mouth. The two-tonged metal fork jutted from her mouth, glistening with her blood, looking like snake's tongue. Her fingers clutching the coin loosened and uncurled and the trinket dropped and rolled away, once again abandoning its master. There was no moment of peace or clarity. There was only panic. Then- raggedy arms surrounded her and pulled her away in a cold embrace. She was their captive now, and they would be damned if they would let her go.

XxXxXxX

Eloise was frightened. As far as she could tell, she was totally alone now.

**Pitch freaking black.**

Everything bad happened to her. All the damn time.

The blackness wasn't so terrible but she had a feeling that she shouldn't stay here. If she got out of this unfamiliar dark, what would she find?

The thought of that kind of loneliness made Eloise feel a little sick, or more accurately, like a brick of lead had settled in her stomach and was expanding.

That was the thing about pain. Thinking about any kind of pain made her feel like vomiting, but when it came to actually experiencing it, she could handle it just as well as Jim.

Suddenly through the darkness came a slight whining sound, like gears of a machine just beginning to grind- and it was trying to tell her something. She couldn't see or feel anything, but the noise only grew, cutting through her like a knife. What was it saying?

It told her things- things that would destroy her sanity and her faith. Screaming, she collapsed to the floor and began to cry. "God hates me! He hates me!"

"YOU JUST LET ME DIE!"

A/N No, it ain't over. Review please and tell me your thoughts.


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